


Something Vague

by cleansam



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 6'2 of cheek and sarcasm and ANGST, Bipolar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Depression, Harry Potter Next Generation, Hugo is losing his mind, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn Slash, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy, Trigger warning in every chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:54:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26581723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleansam/pseuds/cleansam
Summary: A pit. Some sort of demented feeling of loss that comes and goes in long-paced waves. A back-breaking cycle. He’ll be fine, for the most part. Then the pit calls him back in to cower in a corner. He’ll be fine. He’ll have the energy of a thousand and three suns, and then there’ll be an eclipse. That’s when he stops being fine entirely....‘...I didn’t want to be near any of them. I just wanted to be left the fuck—sorry—alone. So, in a way, I guess, that’s how everything really began. I wanted to be alone. Except, you can never really be alone if you want it so bad. No, I wasn’t left alone. I met Theo. Well, I already knew who Theo was, I just got to know him better. I guess it all began when I asked to bum a cigarette from Theo, up there on the astronomy tower. Wait. Wait—no. Scratch everything I’ve just said. It all began with Theo.’
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Hugo Weasley/Original Male Character(s), Lily Luna Potter/Lysander Scamander, Scorpius Malfoy/Rose Weasley
Kudos: 3





	Something Vague

**Author's Note:**

> Back to writing after a five-year hiatus. Feedback is always appreciated!

‘Hello, Hugo. How are you doing today? Your mum’s told me quite a bit about you. Take my word, she spoke very fondly. Did you come here by yourself or did your parents drop you off? Your mum mentioned that your dad’s a muggle car enthusiast. Have you tried driving yet, Hugo? Not a talker, are you? I suppose that’d be fine if the whole point of us being here weren’t you talking. Ah, now, that’s a very nice smile. Let’s try again, shall we? How are you?’

‘Fine. Peachy. I—Eh, you rather I not bullshit, right? Awful. I don’t want to be here. I feel like some problematic pansy sitting here. I’m supposed to be with Lils—that’s my cousin—over at Lysander’s place—that’s my—uh, I’ll assume you don’t care.’

‘Trust me, I care. That’s why I’m here.’

‘Sure. Point is, I’m not supposed to be here. Mum sees me with a cigarette and goes berserk, convinced that I’m a lost cause unless she gets me a shrink. Listen ma’am, I know you’re supposed to convince me to take a handful of antidepressants so I’ll walk around all medicated like a brain-dead chicken, but I’m telling you. I. Am. Absolutely. Brilliantly. Fine. Which, again, may seem like I’m in some clinical denial, and it’s so damn difficult speaking with you since I know you’re overanalysing basically anything that comes out of my mouth, but anyway, believe me when I say that I know when something’s wrong, alright? I know I’ve screwed the pooch with the whole smoking business, and yes I’m a 6’2 mess of cheek and mood swings but I’m 16 for Circe’s sake, alright? That’s what 16 year-olds are. They’re cheeky and moody and they cuss and yes they smoke and they get into trouble. I mean, James—my other cousin—leaves Lily on the rooftop of a 50 floor skyscraper in Manhattan and _he_ doesn’t get himself a shrink. They’ve never even been to Manhattan. Just up and apparated over there and decided it’d be funny. To be fair, it was hilarious. But he doesn’t get medicated. Why do _I_?’

‘I take my word back, Hugo, you are quite the talker. Listen, Hugo, you will not—ever—take any medication unless you agree to do so, okay? We’re only here to talk. I promise I won’t overanalyse anything you say. Well, since we don't _bullshit_ here, I’ll try my best not to. But you know, analysing anything you say is the description of my job.’

‘Funny. Why’d you want this job anyway? Why’d anyone want to listen to whiny teenagers?’

‘Well, Hugo, honestly I often work with the criminally-insane. Those in Azkaban. I’ve only agreed to work with you because your mother is a dear friend. So I’d suppose you’re my only whiny-teenager patient.’

‘Oh. You’re blunt. I like that. I still hate being here.’

‘Would you have any opinion as to why you’re here?’

‘Mum’s a micromanaging nut-job who doesn’t want her little Ravenclaw protege to smoke?’

‘That’s a very bitter answer. Do you have a more realistic one? Or perhaps would you like to recount the events which brought you here, to this seat?’

‘Honestly, no.’

‘I’m betting it would help.’

‘I’m betting I could bullshit my way through this session and take a taxi over to Lysander’s.’

‘I thought we’d agreed on no bullshit. Hugo, by not cooperating, you’re only proving Hermione’s point.’

‘Fine. _Fine._ What do you want?’

‘Tell me about why you started smoking. Maybe that’d be a simple start.’

‘I dunno. I just did. Lily was driving me insane with all her nonstop nonsense and Lysander was being a pain and Potions was an absolute tragedy and I just had to get the fuck away before I hexed someone—or better yet, myself—so I went up to the astronomy tower which honestly I’m not supposed to do after-hours but I did anyway and Theo was up there so—’

‘Hugo, I’d appreciate if you breathed in between sentences. We’ve got quite a bit of time together. It won’t hurt to calm down.’

‘Sorry.’

‘So, why were Lily and Lysander upsetting you?’

‘Listen, it’s a huge, long story.’

‘Like I’ve said, we have plenty of time.’

‘Fine. Fine, whatever. Want me to start from the very beginning? All that crap with the universe and such?’

‘I’d rather you not go _that_ far back.’

‘Fine. I’ll tell you. Just don’t interrupt, alright? That drives me insane.’

‘Of course.’

‘I guess it all began when Al—that’s my other cousin—got himself sorted into Slytherin and—wait. That’s too far back. It began, in a simpler sense, when Lily decided to go and fancy the one person she shouldn’t. Not because he was a Slytherin or whatever. He’s a cool guy mostly, and his dad perfectly antagonises mine during Christmas dinner so that’s fun. So, no, Lily should’t have fancied this bloke simply because he had the most pathetic, idiotic crush on my sister. Honestly, it’s _tragic_. That’s how it began. One Slytherin almost ruined our family. Alright, that’s too dramatic. Lily basically was furious with my sister and my sister was beyond annoyed with Lily. And, oh, the best part is that Lysander had this stupid crush on Lily so those two couldn’t be near each other either. I didn’t want to be near any of them. I just wanted to be left the fuck—sorry—alone. So, in a way, I guess, that’s how everything really began. I wanted to be alone. Except, you can never really be alone if you want it so bad. No, I wasn’t left alone. I met Theo. Well, I already knew who Theo was, I just got to know him better. I guess it all began when I asked to bum a cigarette from Theo, up there on the astronomy tower. Wait. Wait—no. Scratch everything I’ve just said.

‘It all began with Theo.’

(now and again it seems worse than it is)

A pit.

Some sort of demented feeling of loss that comes and goes in long-paced waves. A back-breaking cycle. Cerberus, Hugo names it, because he feels as if some creature bites him in the arse. He’ll be fine, for the most part. Weeks, months, even two years at one time. Then the pit calls him back in to cower in a corner.

He’ll be fine. He’ll have the energy of a thousand and three suns, and then there’ll be an eclipse. That’s when he stops being fine entirely. Weeks, months, even a year at one time. He won’t be fine at all. He can’t explain the eclipse, he can’t make sense of Cerberus, he does not research it out of spite, and he most definitely does not speak of it. No one ever notices, mostly because no one ever notices Hugo, really. He’s not some movie-trope loser, he’s just on the quieter side in comparison to his stupidly gigantic family. No one ever notices the suns or the eclipse and Hugo is grateful for that. The eclipse, his Cerberus, has had the decency to have only bitten him in convenient times. During the school year, far from Hermione’s watchful, wary gaze. He’s grateful for that too. He supposes it’s a seasonal depression thing, or perhaps he just gets much too fed up with his schoolwork at times. Most summers he’s fine. Fine enough to function and laugh. If, by chance, Rose or Lily—or his mother that one time—mentions that he’s not quite his cheery self, he’ll deny it like his life depends on it. Denial isn’t difficult, since his usual ‘cheery’ self is simply him being compliant and composed. The cheery Hugo smiles and nods and studies and smiles some more. The eclipse makes it impossible for him to smile, almost. He knows, perfectly, that he’s not fine. He’s a fuck-up who’s got some serious mental issue, but so long as he doesn’t dwell on that fact, it’s bound to go away. Right?

Smile and nod and study and smile some more.

Except when he can’t.

For the second time in his small lifespan, the eclipse comes late. It’s early May in his sixth year of Hogwarts when he realises the fury and the weariness boiling up in his brain. He doesn’t make sense of it since his last eclipse has come mid October and has left late March. The idea of those long-paced waves knitting closer makes his brain burn a bit more. He counts the days to summer holidays, and realises he’s got a little less than four weeks until the eclipse passes, or he’ll have a hell of a summer. The last time the eclipse had hit him in the summertime was on the summer of his second year, and it’d been a mild eclipse. He’d been able to function. He’s not as sure this time, since he tells Lysander that his stomach feels like an ignition spell hit it, skips his first class, and blankly stares at the roof of his four-poster bed. It only gets worse from there on. Mid May, he sits at dinner with Lily and Lysander and stares at his plate. He hates it. He needs to _leave._

‘I’ve spoken to Al,’ Lily announces miserably. ‘He says Scorpius is much too whipped to take notice in any other living creature. He says there’s no point. You know what I think? I think poor Scorp hasn’t been introduced to any other options. Maybe if I could just sit with him by the lake for just half an hour he’d—’

‘You’re being dumb, Lily.’ Lysander scowls at her. ‘The bloke’s not interested, let it go.’

‘Gosh, Hugo, back me up on this, _please.’_

Hugo stares. He’s staring much too often nowadays which is starting to bug Lily. ‘I don’t know, Lils, alright? Just go talk to him or whatever. It’s not like Rose likes him back.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean? Would it be an issue if she _did_?’

‘What? I dunno. Wouldn’t they be dating if she did?’

Lily’s anger blares at this, with her trademark green eyes already beginning to water. She pushes her plate haughtily and stomps out the Great Hall. Hugo catches Albus’s eye from across the hall, and simply shrugs. He’s too tired to care. He needs to _leave._ He wants to sleep.

‘Hugo, do something,’ Lysander says. ‘At least get her to stop talking about that fucking bloke or I swear—’ Hugo stares. He stares much too often nowadays. Lysander falters. Defeated, he mumbles, ‘I hope you fall in love so hard one day that you’ll break your heart, an arm, and hopefully that giant buzzing head of yours, mate. That’s when you’ll understand.’

Hugo needs to _leave_.

So he does. He slings his bag over his shoulder and mumbles and excuse to Lysander about his stomach acting up again. He knows he has at least three essays he should be writing, and of course that Transfiguration quiz tomorrow which he should have started studying for _yesterday_. He knows if he copes through these final two weeks everything will eventually sort itself out. He knows many things, and yet still can’t bring himself to sit and write those damned essays. He barely skims through his Transfiguration notes before finally giving up and collecting his things from the library desk. He considers going up to his dorm to sleep, or to find Rose and maybe talk to her. Rose would understand, he knows that too, but with two weeks until her graduation and the impending doom of adulthood upon her, he just doesn’t want to be more of a burden. He’s not sure what he would say either. _Hey, hullo, sis, sometimes during the year I want to shoot my brains out with a muggle-made gun for absolutely no reason._ He can’t, and therefore he won’t. He wants to leave again, and yet wherever he goes, the nauseating, frantic feeling of having to leave boils up inside him once more.

The astronomy tower comes to Hugo as an afterthought. He’s exhausted despite having slept for at least twelve hours the night prior, but the idea of going to bed in that tiny four-poster makes him feel sick. He doesn’t quite know what he’ll do up there in the tower but the silly idea of _why not jump?_ plays in the background of his eclipsed mind like some catchy tune. Checking his watch, he realises it’s almost past curfew. He doesn’t care. He’s exhausted and he’ll do anything to not be there in the library or up in his dorm. He makes his way up to the tower swiftly, avoiding any prefects or professors. Finally, when the fresh spring air feels his lungs, he feels as though he can breathe again. He sits on the ledge with one foot hanging off the tower and his back leaning against a stone gargoyle, looking off the edge every now and then and wondering if there are any enchantments preventing idiot first years from falling. He’s about to untie his shoe and throw it over just so see, when he hears some sort of click from the other side of the gargoyle.

Hugo recoils and looks over the statue to see a small flame and a familiar face illuminated by it. The face looks up and raises his eyebrows, questioning. Hugo mumbles an apology and leans back again, albeit uncomfortably this time. The two sit in silence for some minutes until he hears another click and a throaty cough accompanying it.

‘Ickle sixth-years shouldn’t be here after curfew, you know,’ the voice says from behind the statue.

‘Neither should seventh-years,’ argues Hugo.

‘Ah, but, our curfew is later than yours. Perks of being a legal adult and all.’

‘I assume you won’t tell on me.’ Hugo looks over the gargoyle again. ‘What you’re doing isn’t exactly by the rules either.’

The seventh-year looks playfully at his cigarette. ‘What, this? Mate, I’d bet my arse Professor Gint comes up here to smoke every night.’

‘He’s not here tonight, though, is he?’

‘Fair point.’

‘Can I have one?’

The seventh-year’s eyebrows disappear in his fringe. ‘Didn’t know you smoked. Aren’t you Weasleys supposed to be golden children or something?’

‘I don’t. We’re not. I just want to try.’

The seventh-year shrugs and gets up to sit next to Hugo. He lights a new cigarette with the burning side of his half-finished one and hands it to him. ‘You’re supposed to inhale twice. Once into your mouth and the second time into your lungs.’

Hugo does as he is told and finds that it doesn’t burn his throat or taste as awfully as James always says. _I tried fags once, Hugh. Let me tell you, foulest thing you can put in your mouth probably after Voldemort’s cock._ ‘I’m Hugo,’ he says at length.

‘I know. Theo.’

‘I know.’

‘I know you know. Still polite to formally introduce yourself, innit.’

‘Sure.’

They sit in silence for another while. Theo finishes his cigarette and throws it over the tower. ‘Filch finds them in the morning and goes nuts. He used to try and bust me for years and eventually gave up.’ He lights up another. ‘They say he never was quite his old self after his cat died. Poor bloke.’

Hugo looks quizzically at the boy. ‘Aren’t you a quidditch player? Should you be smoking so much?’

‘No. Don’t _you_ ever do things you shouldn’t be doing?’

He thinks of his unfinished essays and the cigarette in his hand and his half untied shoe and nods. ‘Yeah. Yeah I do do things I shouldn’t be doing.’

‘That’s the sort of thing that makes you better than the rest of them. No offense.’

‘Rest of who?’

‘Your cousins, sister, family, I suppose. Each and every single one of them are like glorified porcelain dolls. They look pretty and get the greatest grades and play the best quidditch and date the nicest people. They work like clockwork, don’t they?’

Hugo frowns at Theo. ‘No? Is that how they seem to everyone else?’ He thinks of everything James and Fred get up to and how Rose had to get a tutor in Transfiguration to get a passing NEWT or how rocky Albus’s relationship with Harry is and how Dom shaved her head last year and almost gave Fleur a cardiac arrest. ‘They’re far from perfect and miles away from clockwork.’

Theo inhales smoke and blows at Hugo’s face. ‘That’s not how they portray themselves to all us lowly plebes.’

‘They don’t portray themselves at _all_. They’re just themselves and if you’re bothered by that then maybe there’s something wrong with you?’

‘Right,’ Theo snorts.

‘I’d suggest you give them a chance, but then again, term’s almost over so what’s the point, yeah?’

‘I _am_ giving them a chance,’ Theo says, nodding towards the almost burnt out cigarette between Hugo’s fingers.

‘Yeah. Thanks for that.’

‘Any time, mate.’ Theo gets up. ‘You coming? I know a shortcut to Ravenclaw tower from here.’

‘You’re not even in Ravenclaw.’

‘Dated a bird from there some years back. Perfected the art of sneaking and sleeping around, I’d say.’

‘Sure.’

Hugo follows Theo through a different set of stairs he hasn’t seen before, then through and unfamiliar corridor and finally up an old staircase before ending up in front of the eagle knocker. He turns to Theo to thank him and sees that he’s already started walking away. ‘Oi!’

Without turning back, Theo raises his hand. ‘Same time tomorrow, little friend.’

Hugo mumbles to himself, annoyed, about how he’s 6’2 and _far_ from little as he enters his common room. For a fleeting moment, albeit annoyed and dizzy, he feels better. That is, until he lays his head on his pillow and his mind goes buzzing again.

Hugo needs to _leave,_ though he knows he just _came._

(but mostly the view is accurate)

‘You’re one of the few people I’ve told about—er—the eclipse. I’d much rather it stay that way. You understand don’t you? Confidentiality and all that, right?’

‘Of course. I won’t share any of this with your family if you don’t feel comfortable with me doing so.’

‘I don’t. I really don’t. It’s just that, you know, mum won’t be able to handle it. I overheard once from Harry and Ginny that after the war dad had his own episode of depression—that’s confidential information too. I don’t really know how it went down, but I can imagine neither mum or dad would want to deal with that again. Especially when it’s their kid.’

‘I understand. Hugo, I believe what you’ve been through isn’t depression. From what I’ve gathered, it sounds more like—’

‘Woah. Wait, no. Just please, let’s not name it, alright? I don’t want it to have an actual medical name. It’s just gonna make it more real and worse and I just can’t, alright?’

‘Alright, of course.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Is it sunny, or is the eclipse right now, Hugo?’

‘I don’t know. I have no idea. The line blurred somewhere in these few months. I can’t pinpoint it. I have no idea.’

‘Alright. You said it began with Theo. Did your friend have a special impact on the eclipse?’

‘Yeah. I don’t know. I guess.’

‘For better or worse?’

‘I don’t know. He’s not exactly straight-edge, okay? He smokes excessively and his career plan is dying when he hits 23, so honestly I don’t know. Maybe he should be in therapy instead of me.’

‘Did he speak often of the idea of death? Was he depressed, or having mental health issues in any way?’

‘Not really, no. He liked the idea of death, romanticised it. But not in a depressed sort of way. More like he was too bored to hang around, you know.’

‘I see. Did he impose these ideas on you?’

‘ _What?_ No, no, of bloody course not. He wasn't dragging me down with himself or anything if that’s what you mean. If anything, he mostly kept me grounded. I got these aggressive episodes every now and then. That didn’t happen before. I dunno, I just got violent and he’d pull me back to civilisation or some shit—sorry.’

‘So, he was good for your mental health?’

‘In a way, yeah. He had my back. I mean, Theo was the only person I could tell any of this to for a long time. He’s the first person I told. He did fuck me up, don’t get me wrong. Oof, sorry, I don’t mean to cuss so much.’

‘It’s fine. Why do you think he—erm—messed you up?’

‘Not willingly, Merlin, no. It’s just, you know, when you hang out with the wrong crowd and it messes with your head? Uh, no, that’s a bullshit way to put it. I don’t know how to explain.’

‘Alright, try to explain it along the way. When do you think these aggressive episodes began?’

‘I don’t know. I just got angry at small, stupid things at first. I would get so angry sometimes, Merlin, I wanted to hex people to oblivion. At times I wanted to pounce on them. We get fights in Hogwarts, obviously. I assumed it was a guy thing, you know. But I never was a violent kid. I didn’t fight other kids. I didn’t really even dislike anyone.’

‘Did you act on these violent urges?’

‘A few times. Once or twice honestly. I did jump Scorpius that one time—erm, he’s the one who fancied my sister. That’s when everything sort of fell apart I think. That’s when it got worse.’

‘Did fighting with Scorpius cause things to fall apart?’

‘No. What happened afterwards did. But that didn’t happen for months after the May eclipse began.’

‘Right. We could go chronologically if you’d prefer.’

‘I would. Listen, mum won’t hear any of this, right?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Good. Well, after that night in the astronomy tower, I felt sort of functional for a few more days. I thought it was over until Potions. Circe, Potions always fucks me up.’

‘What happened during the class?’

‘I—we don’t really have much time left. Can we continue this later?’

‘Yes, of course. You will come again on Wednesday, won’t you?’  
‘I don’t know. I guess. I should go. Dad’s probably waiting for me outside.’

‘Of course. Next session we’ll focus on the eclipse and how to overpower it. Does that sound alright?’

‘Yeah, sure. Thanks, Mrs. Muriel.’

‘It was a pleasure to meet you, Hugo.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, you too.’

(And I'm standing on air  
With nothing holding me.  
And I hang like a star,  
Fucking glow in the dark,  
For all those starving eyes to see,  
Like the ones we've wished on)


End file.
